


Midnight Hearts

by melanie1982



Category: Boy Meets World, Fingersmith, Labyrinth, Vampire Chronicles - Fandom, X Files
Genre: Feels, Fluff, Other, maybesmut, noncanon, parallelrealities, varioustimelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: Various drabbles (ish) from various fandoms featuring various characters' NYE musings.I own nothing.I make no money from this work of fiction.
Relationships: itscomplicated, various
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Jareth squinted at the crystal, watching as Sarah made her final preparations for the evening. The gilt script on the invitation, the card holding pride of place on Sarah's vanity, told Jareth that his intended would be going to a masque to celebrate the Aboveground attaining a new calendar year. It was an odd custom, but Jareth supposed that in a world obsessed with reason and explaining away anything supernatural, it was, at least, a nod to the old ways. In the Underground, the changing of the seasons had their rituals and festivals; the fact that Sarah was still able to dream, to dress up and to play at being someone magical, gave the King hope. 

Her dress was a sleeker, more grown-up version of the garment worn during their one shared dance. The bodice was definitely tighter than its predecessor, and the cut was a little lower than the Goblin King would prefer she wear in public - but of course, Sarah didn't spare a thought for his opinion.

As she surveyed the accoutrements spread across her dressing-table, Sarah worried her bottom lip. Something was missing; some element to make her outfit complete.

He watched her begin to open drawers, rifling through trinkets, holding up this or that bauble to her neck, her ears, her wrist in the mirror. 

A knock at the door disturbed his voyeurism, and Jareth sighed. "What is it?"

A particularly self-loathing goblin whose name escaped him - Milkweed? Mildew? No matter - half-crawled into the King's chamber.

"Ten thousand apologies, Highness, but there's been a skirmish in the main courtyard, and, well, both parties are seeking an audience with you to resolve the matter. What should I do, oh Great One?"

Jareth had to hold his concentration, or the image would fade away. Without turning around, and with his shoulders curling forward as if to shield the crystal from anyone's touch or influence, he spoke. "Have them both killed."

The words were said so dispassionately, so matter-of-factly, that Milwart lost his manners for a moment. "K-k-KILLED, Your Majesty? B-but - "

Jareth peered at the subjugant with his blue eye. There was enough venom in that one orb to send Milwart groveling backwards out of the room.

"Of course, Majesty. Anything you say."

The door closed once more. Jareth watched as Sarah became increasingly agitated, and he knew that what he was about to do was beyond foolish. It was pathetic, and laughable, and beneath him.

Shivering into his owl form, he briefly surveyed himself in the mirror before setting out into the night, to the point where the Aboveground began.

She was there, on the balcony, looking up at the stars. Jareth wished he could capture a photograph of her in that pose, the very picture of a princess in the throes of a crisis. Sarah was young still, and had only grown more lovely with the passing seasons. For a fleeting moment, he sensed the girl's longing for her mother, for the ego boosts and fashion advice such a figure would bring - but that moment passed, and Jareth felt Sarah's thoughts shift to something else, something he couldn't quite read.

He hadn't much time. Sarah needed to finish getting ready, and she must not see him. Why he knew it was so, Jareth could not say. Gliding at an angle, Jareth gained entry to Sarah's room, making his way on a hunch to her closet. It was there that he found what he'd need.

Plucking at his tail with his beak, he removed a handful of snowy feathers, gathering them with his talons. Silently, he tucked those feathers between the sequins of an old white half-mask. The mesh of the lace beneath helped them catch, and Jareth hoped they'd hold. He repeated this process until his tail was half-bare, and the mask seemed complete.

Now he had to find a way to get her to see it.

He flapped his wings, knocking an old, broken lamp, a prop from some play which Sarah had kept for sentimental reasons, to the floor of her closet. As she ran towards the sound, Jareth made his escape, his little bird-heart thundering within his chest. The Goblin King did not even hazard a glance back to see her reaction to the gift.

Back in his castle, Jareth indulged himself one last time. It had been three hours and twenty-two minutes since his flying visit to her world, and the countdown had begun.

Sarah was with a group of friends, most of whom were female. She outshone them all, he noted with satisfaction and something like pride.

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!.."

The mask fitted Sarah perfectly, the white feathers and lace such a contrast to the dark tendrils of her hair spilling down from her up-do. It must have been comfortable, for she had worn it all evening. How he knew this, Jareth could not say; he simply knew it.

"..Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

The cacophony of cheers and noise-makers was juvenile and silly and so very obnoxious - and yet, the King smiled. Sarah was happy. She had accepted his gift, and he began to hope, somewhere deep within the labyrinth of his mind, for a future he had thought lost to him.

After saying goodnight to her friends, Sarah began to make her way home. After untying the ribbons of the mask, she began to peer at it as she walked, turning it this way and that, as if searching for something hidden. 

He watched her hold it in her hands all the way home. She was smiling, and it was magic to him. Beyond the King's window, spring was beginning; the ice and death were loosening their grip on the Underground, and new life was pushing through to the surface. He'd find it in the morning, her magic weaving its spell over his kingdom, even across the divide.

As she prepared for bed, Sarah contemplated where to place the mask. Selecting two pushpins and a blank space on the wall opposite her bed, the girl hesitated, bringing the mask to her cheek, letting the feathers caress her face. Such a different feel on the outside, so soft, so yielding; the opposite side was stiff and prickly, much like the King himself. Perhaps both sides were like him?

"I know it was you," she said to the empty air, affixing the ribbons to the wall with the pins. Standing back to survey it, she smiled again.

Jareth's heart was in his throat.

"Thank you," was all she said. 'Thank you,' and nothing more. In his courtyard, a riot of roses bloomed, unable to wait for the sun.

Although she could not hear it, Jareth wished Sarah a happy new year, and resolved to sleep.

Perhaps the Aboveground dwellers were onto something with this 'new year, new beginnings' fairy tale...


	2. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully...
> 
> I can't..
> 
> Stillllll not over it

Scully wasn't a big drinker. 'Early to bed' was sound advice in her book. Having indulged in one drink, since, y'know, it was New Year's, and she was home, alone, curled up with a trashy novel, Dana had felt she'd done her part. Morning would bring a new year, a new work week, and probably a new case (or several). By ten p.m, her thoughts had shifted into dreams, including a strange dream that her phone kept ringing - and ringing - and ringing - and -

Sigh. "Hello?"

If Mulder could've seen her face in that moment, he'd have done something stupid, like tried to kiss her, or made an inelegant attempt at telling her how beautiful she looked with her red hair flopping over in front of her half-awake face, her eyes heavy-lidded, the moonbeams playing across her skin from the adjacent window - but he could see none of this, for he was at that moment waiting outside of a bar in the D.C area, a hotspot for attorneys, law enforcement, and the people who loved them.

"Scully? Is that you?"

He sounded tipsy, but not trashed. Dana fought a smile, in spite of herself. "YOU called ME."

Mulder laughed, nervously. "I.. uh.. God, this is embarrassing. I just got this new cell phone, and I guess I must've programmed your name with Diana's number, and Diana's name with *your* number.."

At that revelation, Scully was now suddenly too awake for her liking. She didn't want her mind going over recent conversations with her partner, scanning them for any missed references to a 'Diana'. She didn't want to imagine what Diana would think of her, or how Diana would react if Mulder left a voicemail meant for DANA on *her* phone.. 'Ask them no questions, they'll tell you no lies' was another sound piece of advice, Scully reminded herself.

"Seems that way," said the redhead, sleep still in her voice. "Well, as long as you're alright, I'm gonna.. I'm gonna go back to sleep now."

There was a rustling sound as Mulder shifted the phone in his grip, or perhaps it was a gust of wind. A passerby let out a drunken laugh, and Scully almost envied the stranger, how carefree they were, going through life with no idea of the monsters and mayhem she and her partner dealt with almost every day of the year.

"You're already in bed?"

Mulder sounded surprised, and also intrigued. Dana needed to quash the latter.

"Mm hmm. Good night, Mulder. Get home.. or, wherever you're headed.. safely, okay?"

He hesitated. "I'm waiting on a cab. I've had a few."

She smiled wider. "You don't say. I'm glad you're not driving, Mulder. I'll see you in the office on Monday."

"Hey, Scully?"

She glanced at the bedside clock radio; it was blinking twelve, like a broken VCR display, although she knew it must be closer to closing time.

"Mmm?"

"Happy New Year."

A warm feeling came over her then, despite the lateness of the hour and the intrusion of the call. She felt less alone, somehow. Dana hoped this Diana person knew how lucky she was to - now where did THAT sentiment originate?

There were so many things Dana could've replied, like, "Come here and sleep it off," or, "Use protection," or "We need to talk.." Scully said none of those things. "Happy New Year to you too, Mulder."

There was more laughter in the background then, revelers spilling out of the bar and into the cold night. Scully heard the crunch of tires rolling to a stop - probably her friend's taxi - and then, "You're a good partner, Scully."

More of that peculiar warmth pooling in her belly. "Back atcha, Spooky. Good night."

She set the phone back into its cradle, her head flopping down onto the pillow with a slight sigh.

A new year. A new adventure. The same partner.

A new beginning?


	3. Sentimental Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like my vampires brooding and un-sparkly.
> 
> Immortal angst

Louis

It was the same, yet different. Each year, humans marked the passage of time, dressing up and getting drunk, throwing confetti, dancing, making bad decisions, resolving to become new, improved versions of themselves.. It was tragically comical, or comically tragic.

This year, Louis was determined to observe it first-hand, rather than on tv. It had been years since his last trip to New York City, and the lights of Times Square were dazzling. All around him, human excitement crackled like electricity, and after a while, it began to affect him, despite his misgivings.

He cut a dashing, if modern, figure of a gentleman, in his full-length coat, black dress slacks, and shined shoes. His paleness went unremarked upon, probably due to the revelers' inebriation, and the glare of the lights as the television crew illuminated the hosts of the festivities.

Some obnoxious blonde with large plastic breasts half-shouted into a microphone as the countdown began. Thousands of people craned their necks upward to watch a giant ball of lights begin its descent, and Louis joined in, bemused. A man behind him pressed in close, feeling in the darkness for Louis' wallet or phone in the coat pocket, finding only a straight-razor for his troubles. The man's curses were drowned out by the crowd's chants, although the smell of the blood heightened Louis' energy, getting him amped up for an eventual kill.

One voice began to single itself out from the others. Louis thought he must have misheard the first time, but it repeated twice more, and he turned to its source.

A woman, no more than twenty, was looking up at Louis with hopeful doe eyes. "Kiss me at midnight?," she asked again. Her smile was infectious, and Louis felt his old nature stir within him, something akin to bashfulness resurfacing. She was so young, sweet and innocent - the very sort of girl his old partner would most enjoy corrupting and dispatching.

Call it the heat of the moment, or going native, or being a sentimental old fool - whatever the reason, right there, in front of thousands of partygoers and millions of viewers, Louis bent his head to kiss a strange woman on the lips. She tasted of life, of human vulnerability and potential, and of a future as yet unformed.

When he released her, he wondered if he'd drawn from her, so dazed was her expression. Then the fog cleared, the woman gave him another dazzling smile, and the moment ended. It was now after midnight, and there was no reason to stand in the middle of the teeming mass for a moment more.

As Louis made his way into the night in search of a snack - perhaps the would-be pickpocket, whose scent of blood still thrilled Louis' senses - an old friend was digesting what he had just seen..

Lestat

The club was packed. Half of the crowd was out of it on various substances, their latex and leather-clad forms grinding and writhing in a sweaty mass on the dancefloor, oblivious to the change. The other half had had their focus on the countdown, but it was over now. Another year. Dawn was a few hours away, and the clubbers wanted to start the year as they meant to go on: in full party mode.

Lestat had been watching the screen, mocking the custom of ringing in the new year as a small fish in a big pond. There had been nothing remarkable about it, nothing to set it apart from any other countdown - 

\- until the camera had panned to a dear, familiar face planting a kiss upon a stranger.

"After all these years..," Lestat muttered to no one. Louis still affected him deeply, to his chagrin. Perhaps it was the shock of the unexpected sighting, or the context - Louis, *his* Louis, kissing a woman! - but it had rattled the old vampire.

"So. He still 'lives,' and he's in New York," Lestat's brain prattled on without his permission. 

He began to argue with himself about going to New York. It wasn't that far; they were in the same time zone - but the dawn..

"Sentimental old fool," Lestat chided himself.

Lestat had planned to stay until closing time, to pick off one of the herd, someone lonely, someone easy.. He had no appetite for it now.

Louis had been his food, had filled him with one look. 

A new year, he mused. He felt no older. He felt unchanged, yet he must be.

Lestat would seek him out. He had a strange sensation rising within him; it was almost.. warm.

Was it anger, or was it love?

Yes.


	4. BFFs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traditions

"Every year, Shawnsie.. We should do this ev-er-y.. year."

Cory was barely tipsy, but it didn't take much to get him going. Shawn felt his friend's finger push into his sternum to emphasize each syllable. He allowed the contact; he always made allowances for Cory. Any touch was welcome touch.

It was pointless to point out that they *did* do this every year, Shawn knew. Same party, different year. Topanga was passed out on the couch, leaving Shawn with a minefield to navigate as far as sleeping arrangements. The newlyweds' apartment only boasted one bedroom, a living room, a small kitchen, and a tiny bathroom; the tub wasn't long enough to stretch out in, though Shawn had slept in worse. Then again, Cory would undoubtedly shuffle in there to pee, and that might -

"'Love you, Shawnsie," Cory slurred, slumping into his friend's arms.

Shawn propped him up, helping him over to the couch. He sat in the middle, between the husband and wife. How apt, he mused.

Cory's head drooped lower and lower, mirroring the ball on the tv screen.

No sooner had the cry of "ONE!" gone up, than Cory's head had settled decisively on Shawn's shoulder.

As Shawn Hunter sat staring at the screen, watching midnight roll out in various cities, he willed his body to go numb. The pleasure of Cory's proximity and the pain of his guilt (and of 'Panga's presence) were in perfect equilibrium. It was warm, if awkward - preferable to the bathtub, or to his own, decidedly less home-y, apartment. 

"Happy New Year," he murmured to both parties. 

Perhaps this would be the year Shawn would figure out a way to disentangle his heart from Cory Matthews. Perhaps it would be the year he'd find someone new. Perhaps it would be the year he'd find the words to tell his best friend what should've been obvious, the words he should've said before a wedding took place..

Perhaps. Who knew what the new year would bring?

In his heart, Shawn replied, "I love you, too."


	5. Ringing the bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London

Susan indulged Maud. It had been several years since either of them had set foot in London, and Sue was none too keen to go back, but, for Maud...

Their room was modest, but close enough to the clock. Maud had ordered refreshments to be taken in their room, allowing Sue the novelty of being waited upon. 

They were now pleasantly full, Sue dozing on her side of the bed, when Maud shook her shoulder.

"Susan, it's nearly midnight."

"Mmm," Sue replied, her fingers tracing a lazy path along Maud's goose-fleshed arm.

The chimes began to sound, just as Maud had hoped. Sue was non-plussed, but Maud hadn't grown up here; this hadn't been her world, though it should've been by rights. Sue's New Years Eves' should've been quiet, in the country. How topsy-turvy things had been.

Maud was leaning in for a kiss, when she suddenly stopped. Sue's eyes opened.

"Church bells?" Maud seemed puzzled.

Sue smiled. "They ring the bells to chase away evil and bring in the good," she explained, remembering Mrs. Sucksby's explanation to her from childhood. How young and naïve she had been!

Maud considered this new information for a moment, then resumed the abandoned pursuit of her kiss. "Sue?"

"Yes?"

"The bells didn't work," Maud said wickedly.

That was the best news Susan had had all year.


End file.
